


you're my coffee in the morning

by Cxnfiscated



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Attempt at Humor, Barista Lance (Voltron), Early Mornings, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Klance AU Month, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxnfiscated/pseuds/Cxnfiscated
Summary: He set the cup down in front of Keith and said, “You know, I normally do Killer Latte Art, the Instagram worthy shit, but I went with something simpler and much more fitting for you.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin with a cocky smirk.Keith who normally found himself scowling and frowning at cockiness, straightened his posture, lifted an eyebrow and answered with a cocky smirk of his own. “Oh really? But anyone could say that.”





	you're my coffee in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Day One: Coffee Shop AU

The world was still asleep when Keith made his way through the streets of his neighbourhood. Dawn was about to break, already painting the sky in the soft hues of pink and blue, no light behind the windows, nothing but drawn curtains and lowered blinds. Birdsong rose and echoed through the neighbourhood, like conversations held over rooftops and gardens and porches.

 

Keith sighed and buried his hands in his cropped jacket. It truly had changed a lot around here since he had left for the Garrison a few months back. He felt like an absent brother coming home to see that his younger sibling was now a head taller than him. Only that _he_ was the one who had grown ─ well, at least he’d like to think so.

 

His steps didn’t make any sounds on the asphalt as he took in the different porches that had been the whole world just a few months back. The neighbourhood with everything he needed in it, shops, a school, a gym and all his friends, had been an ecosystem, a flat earth with nothing beyond its edges.

 

So now here he was, playing guest in a place that had once been his home. But Keith took the mantle of a guest, the one of a tourist, and wore it in like a new pair of boots. He wandered through the streets and alleys like he had never seen them before, pretended he didn’t recognise the _particular_ fencing post his face had made an acquaintance with when Shiro taught him how to ride a bike _without_ teaching him how to use the brakes. He forgot about all of that, pushed it aside for eyes alight with curiosity and revelled in the sense of novelty that now seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

 

That’s how he had stumbled across the café, the only thing in the neighbourhood that _was_ new.

 

Keith halted his steps his brows lifted in true astonishment, not the kind he had to work for. His eyes flicked up to read the sign above the door ─ _The Paladin’s Corner_ ─ and then down onto the other sign:

 

_Come in, we’re open!_

 

Keith hesitated for a moment, stuck staring the creme-coloured, almost picturesque design of the little cafe. It didn’t fit here, it seemed like someone had taken a plane to Paris, packed out the first café they found and flew it back into a Texan suburb. Keith was about to walk up to the entrance when the door swung open and someone walked out instead.

 

“Oh hey, you can actually come in, you know?” _Not a French accent._ The only coherent thought Keith’s brain came up with when what he assumed was the barista walked out, carrying a giant sign, covered in trendy hand lettering that usually only existed in the world of magazines and satisfying calligraphy videos on Twitter.

 

The barista lowered it with a strained grunt and turned to Keith, his smile wide and his eyes entirely too cheerful for 6:30 in the morning. He locked eyes with Keith and faltered, smile diminishing.“Uh I mean, only if you want to…” He reached up to scratch at the nape of his neck, a gesture unexpectedly endearing and Keith internally kicked himself to get out a proper sentence.

 

“Uh, yeah, I do. Want to buy something, that is. If you’re open?”

Why did it sound like a question? It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question. He winced at his general incompetence when it came to social interactions but the pretty barista just chuckled.

(A sound that did way too much to Keith’s poor heart in these early morning hours.)

 

The barista only pointed to the sign right above his head, which was _also_ the one Keith had read just minutes earlier and snorted at his facial expression.

“Well, someone must have not had their coffee yet,” He leaned forward and smiled like Keith and he were in on a secret, “I got you, buddy.” He turned and vanished inside the coffee shop and Keith hurried to follow him inside.

 

Keith slowed his steps when the door clicked shut behind him and took in the interior. Walls were painted in a soft beige and armchairs, seemingly stolen from another century, neatly arranged around small, circular tables and overflowing with cushions. The walls were covered with bookshelves that rose all the way up to the ceiling and were stuffed with broken-spined, well-loved novels. The scent of roasted coffee beans wafted through the air and Keith felt drawn to it like a moth was to a flame.

 

He sat down on one of the high stools in front of the cash register. “So what is your order, Sir?” The barista ─ _Lance_ , as it said on his nametag ─ asked, in an overly formerly tone that was ruined by his grin. Keith looked up at the menu and stopped short.

That was … a lot.

 

He cluelessly blinked at Lance and said, “Whatever you think is best, I guess?” A cry for help if there ever was one. Way to look pathetic, Kogane. Excellent job!

 

But Lance just shot him a dazzling smile, dimples and wrinkles around the eyes and all, and took his hesitation ─ and quite frankly, incompetence ─ in stride. “Okay, you are getting a Caramel Macchiato, stat.” Without giving Keith the time to answer, or to even object, he turned and began to work.

 

“What’s your name by the way?” Lance half turned and shot him an inquiring look while his hands seamlessly manipulated the coffee grinder.

“Keith.”

“The name’s Lance,” he answered before he turned back to Keith’s coffee beans.

 

They spent the next few moments in silence with nothing but whirring of the coffee machine in the background. Keith watched avidly as Lance first steamed the milk, got the bottle of caramel syrup and then arranged all of it neatly in a way larger cup than Keith would have gotten on his own. His movements were fluid and practised and there was something oddly soothing about watching him work. The same way some people enjoyed watching artist while they worked on their paintings.

 

He set the cup down in front of Keith and said, “You know, I normally do _Killer Latte Art_ _,_  the Instagram worthy shit, but I went with something simpler and much more fitting for you.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin with a cocky smirk.

 

Keith who normally found himself scowling and frowning at cockiness, straightened his posture, lifted an eyebrow and answered with a cocky smirk of his own. “Oh really? But anyone could say that.” He made a show out of inspecting the art on the foam and frowned at what he found.

 

 _A C,_ as in the letter C. Keith lifted his head and met Lance’s eyes who didn’t even blink at his change in demeanour, rosy lips and pearly white teeth still displayed in a confident grin. “You do know that you spell ‘Keith’ with a K, right?” Keith drawled.

 

But Lance’s smile only widened and Keith’s heart did something funny. “Nah, a ‘C’ for ‘Cutie’ seems more than accurate to me.”

 

Heat shot up in Keith’s cheeks as he buried his face in his hands. Then he realised what he was doing and his head shot up back up again. He must have looked ridiculous, even ludicrous, but Lance just huffed out amused laughter.

 

Keith narrowed his eyes at him for a moment but soon joined in, the heat fading from his cheeks. He locked eyes with Lance as he took his first sip but he had to close them as flavour erupted across his tongue.

 

He let out an embarrassing sound and hastily set down the cup. “This is _amazing._ Holy shit.” Keith stared at Lance, gaping like a fish, the heat right back where it had been just a few seconds ago: His cheeks.

 

Lance shot him a pleased grin, eyes ─ the bluest eyes he had ever seen ─ twinkling back at him. “You don’t come here often then, I take it?” Keith shook his head. His eyes lingered briefly on Lance, wandering across the freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose like a cluster of stars, begging him to arrange them into constellations and his eyes, a piece of the sea caught mid-motion.

 

His lips spread into a smile.“No, not yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> KLANCE MONTH IS HERE; AYY!! Okay, let's try doing this. I cannot promise anything but let's see how many of these I can put out in the next 28 days.
> 
> follow me on twitter for the inevitable screaming that will occur: [@cxnfiscated](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated) and stan [And Yet, The Sun Will Rise Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206018/chapters/35268089)  
> byee see y'all!!


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